Just about the most fun we've had all year

Not much happens in Portland from November through May that is not accompanied by rain, mist, or low grey clouds. One copes by dreaming of the blue skies and long, long days of July through September. (Wellington boots also help!)

But once every 30 years or so -- it goes absolutely berzerker outside and the snow piles up! What a treat!

Cross country skiers making fresh tracks in the city streets.

A paper lantern with a snow crown.

Too late for hibernation.

A few brave souls.

Karma karma karma karma karma chameleon

It seems like my decision to think more positively in December has begun to share itself with the world. On Saturday night the Hub and I had drinks at our favorite local martini spot. We got there a little early for happy hour ($4 martinis!) and sat snug on the brown velvety sofa bench. Talking about all sorts of things and watching the scene, we enjoyed a bite to eat and a few shaken-not-stirred’s. About an hour after we arrived, I noticed two older couples glancing our way and pointing surreptitiously at us. I wasn’t wearing a low cut shirt or tight skirt, so couldn’t understand what their deal was. It kinda creeped me out, especially after the Hub finally noticed it too. By then we were about ready to leave, so dismissed the pointing and whispering.

We asked for our bill and our server told us that it had already been ‘taken care of’ by someone else in the bar…Hmmm, really? We didn’t see anyone that we knew, so couldn’t quite believe our ears. Portlanders are nice, but never has anyone bought me a couple rounds of drinks without wanting a little sump’in sump’in in return (the Hub included). The server then glanced over her shoulder and nudged her head in the direction of the two couples who had earlier displayed a not-very-well-hidden interest in us. They were leaving as the server shared their story. Apparently their own bill had been paid for by someone else somewhere else in the city, so they wanted to return the favor to the universe. Karma can definitely be a bitch, so I don’t blame them. Instead I raise a glass to them and say “Skoll! Chin chin! And thanks for not making me look crazy!”

But seriously, we are now on the hunt for another cute, cozy and deserving couple to receive and then themselves extend positive energy, good karma and holiday cheer.

Sometimes I run out of things to say

It has been more than a month since I've last written...So much and so little have taken place over the last couple of months, that it has felt almost too overwhelming to write about any of it. 

The election of President Elect Barack Obama put me in a stupor for about a week. All I could do was soak up the energy and excitement that this regime change has brought about and try to radiate my pleasure without repeating just what all of the TV news/papers/blogs/conversations have all already stated over and over again.

And then there's the economy and its endless downward spiral. I cannot say that I am surprised by our economy taking a downturn -- isn't that what ecomonies do? But I am suprised by how far-reaching the effects have been and how mindless and greedy most of the companies and people in the financial world have turned out to be. Luckily, I have a solid support system and a reliable means of paying a mortgage that is safely within the one-third of income rule...But what about my loved ones, friends and coworkers who are on shakier ground or older family members who are close to retirement? I not worry for them and the communities of people they represent, although the piling up of more bad numbers and disappointment begins to numb.

And now come the heartbreaking terrorist attacks in Mumbai, where just having sat for a meal in a shwanky hotel restaurant might have gotten a person killed...It is a fresh insult to humanity.

I began this blog as an outlet for me to express my profound wonder and joy that this world has to offer, and I haven't really felt much of that lately. There have been short blips -- a fantastic communal Thanksgiving, old school birthday parties, the new 007 -- but these have not done much to lighten my overall mood. There has been too much emotional overload and sensory deprevation. So I will try to start December with a clean slate and a vow to reconnect with my usually positive self. Wish me luck.

Speaking of friends, I just have to mention the special friendship in which girlfriends can bask. Whether it's a long laughing phone call, or a wide-ranging, chatty and silly dinner party, there is a wonderful ease and inhibition of self that arises in conversation with a close girlfriend. The boundary between thy and thine melts. The feeling of competition similarly fades. Like seals or otters that soak up the sun on hot rock ledges together, we steep ourselves in a wonderfully unspeakable joy that pervades an afternoon or evening. 

Here's to girlfriends!

Special Friends

One of my goals in life is to be surrounded by close friends who are caring, intelligent and fun. I am proud to have found such treasured souls in every hometown that I have adopted over the years. In fact, if you are reading this blog, you are likely one of these people. Believe me, you are fantastic! No wonder your Mothers brag about you!

However, there are a few extra special friends that deserve individual recognition. For the purposes of this post, I am not talking about the chica I have known the longest and is my bestest friend. Nor do I refer to the handsome young man who now knows all my weirdness and doesn’t mind. No, today I mean the friends who bring extra flare and adventure to my life that would otherwise be inaccessible, or who provide advice and insight on matters about which I am clueless. Today, these distinguished friends include a Pilot Friend, Dentist Friend, Doctor Friend, Friend Who Gets Shopping Discounts, Cape Cod Friend, and Boat Friend. My Boat Friend, for example, recently took us out cruising for an entire day under sunny blue skies across a calm and beautiful bay. It was breathtaking and such fun. Just one minor snag—he lives 3,000 miles away on the Chesapeake.





These friends share incredible gifts with me for which I am so grateful. They really do rock. Unfortunately, I have yet to find a Private Jet Friend, House in the Mountains Friend, R8 Friend, Lawyer Friend or Chef Friend…The search continues.

Sleep Deprived in Seattle

Oh, George.

You were everything I wanted and more. Fifteen feet away, we made eye contact time and again. Song after song, your voice shredded the arena. Your best work kept me out of my seat and dancing for hours. The simple set with stunning graphics was not without a sense of humor and irony.



How much would I have paid for the front row seats we scored because not all of humanity is honest? I can’t say…But perfection is priceless.

Getting to see George

I am not a big concert-goer. Despite my best efforts, I see live music only once or twice a year. Every time I go, I think, such talent! Such fun! I need to – and I will – head out to Portland's music venues more often! But then I get confused by the myriad of band names and intimidated by the avalanche of music styles, so end up not going anywhere. It's pathetic.

Which why the upcoming George Michael concert is such an electrifyingly exciting event for me. Music that I have loved for years, songs for which I know all the words, beats that groove, and vocal stylings like honey. My friends are likely already sick of hearing me talk about it despite my best efforts to keep conversation focused elsewhere. Perhaps if I saw more live music more often, they wouldn't have to experience my fits of shrieking banshee-like hullabaloo.

...Or perhaps they are just jealous? It is George Michael.

Berry Season Has Arrived!

Growing up with parents who passionately farmed a rather large and complex kitchen garden was lost on me until fairly recently. Where others might have focused on learning about favorable soil conditions or optimal times to plant, all I saw were 50-foot long rows of weeds under 98-degree and 95% humidity Maryland weather. There were a few bright spots, of course. My Mother’s homemade dilled green beans, strawberry jam and blackberry cobblers were family addictions.

Fast forward to the Oregon summer that has finally arrived. The first strawberries of the season have ripened and the thought of picking one’s own stock under a warm and breezy Saturday sun is intoxicating. Rows and rows and rows of berries (weeded by someone else!) await our eager fingers. Sore muscles and aching backs fade before the thought of rows and rows and rows of fresh jam (made by me!).



The odd berry and dirt stain that colors my fingertips will soon fade, but the personal satisfaction of canning 35 pounds of strawberries with my sister and nieces will linger till the last jar is eaten sometime in the dark of winter.